


Mend The Bond

by morifiinwe



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, i just want these two to get along, post-resurrection, the more i write about caranthir the more convinced i become that he would be a costuber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morifiinwe/pseuds/morifiinwe
Summary: Caranthir and Celegorm had never been particularly close, so Caranthir doesn't understand why Celegorm spends so much time hovering.---For Tolkien Gen Week 2020
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë & Celegorm | Turcafinwë
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	Mend The Bond

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is a reference to brave

Celegorm hovered now. It was weird. It was really, really weird, because Celegorm could barely sit still most of the time, so what was he doing hovering by Caranthir as he worked on embroidering the collar of one of his shirts? If he had to hover, why couldn’t he hover somewhere else? Caranthir didn’t like being watched so closely. It made him feel uncomfortable, and when he got uncomfortable, he got confrontational, and he was trying to make an effort, for their mother’s sake.

Trying mainly consisted of avoiding arguments like the plague, leaving rooms or taking walks when his (ridiculously large) family was getting on his nerves. The others usually left him be, but Celegorm followed him, hovering, seemingly careless for how much his presence grated on Caranthir’s nerves. And yet it was impossible to make him leave, because he, too, had acquired a needle and thread, and was sat fixing a rip in the leg of a pair of trousers. Perhaps Caranthir was just over thinking things, going a little stir crazy after being stuck in the same house as the rest of them for the last week thanks to their mother’s birthday celebrations, but perhaps not. In all the time that Caranthir had spent stitching geometric patterns—inspired by the architecture of Belegost—into his shirt, Celegorm had made, at most, five stitches.

They’d never been like this before. Everyone had grouped them together with Curufin as the middle children, but Celegorm had never spent that much time with him, splitting his between Curufin, Huan, and Oromë’s Hunt. Any time together was usually like this, Caranthir busy with embroidery or weaving and Celegorm fixing something, except they ignored each other the whole time, and Celegorm rarely stayed longer than he had too. Caranthir had never minded. He’d always been a solitary child.

He was openly staring at Celegorm now, who made stitches six, seven, and eight, before giving up the pretence and staring openly back.

“What?” he asked.

They were both horrible with words.

“What are you doing here?”

Even as he said it, Caranthir could feel his hopes of a civil conversation begin to slip away from him.

“Clearly I am here to mend this hole,” said Celegorm, holding up the trousers so he could see the partially stitched up tear.

Caranthir raised a single eyebrow in what he thought was a decent imitation of Maedhros’s Tired Face. It worked like a charm. Celegorm put down the fabric, sighed, and dropped his face into his hands.

“Doriath,” he said quietly.

Now Caranthir was even more confused. Doriath? What did he mean by Doriath? Curufin’s death didn’t have anything to do with him, and Celegorm’s own death wouldn’t cause him to hover like this, and he wasn’t even there when Caranthir died, and—oh.  _ Oh _ . The two of them had been arguing about the best way forward through the maze of Menegroth, before Caranthir had decided they were wasting time and had split off. They didn't meet again until they were in the Halls of Mandos, and not on the best of terms.

Caranthir didn’t quite know what to say to that, how to express love and concern and everything else in a way that wouldn’t make Celegorm angry, so instead just patted the space beside him on the window seat, his favourite place to work, when Celegorm looked back up at him. They sat in companionable silence as Celegorm finished his work and lent heavily back against the window.

“I should have been there with you.”

“I doubt you would have made much of a difference,” said Caranthir, trying his hardest to not sound sarcastic.

“Maedhros told me to look after you and Curufin, and I failed on both points, but at least Curvo wasn’t alone. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Caranthir often preferred being alone, but that was in contrast to the noise and energy of all of his brothers. This was nice, peaceful even. Caranthir liked it.

“The light is best in this room in the afternoon,” he said, still focused on his work, but smiling now. “If you help me steal some of Celebrimbor’s shirts from the laundry, I’ll teach you how to do designs like these.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading! please leave comments and kudos if you did <3


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